One More Spark to the Call
Characters: Ironhide Sit-Com Arcee Dal Matia Imager :Location: Silent Grill :Date: 8/21/15 :TP: Spotlight Imager TP/Silent Grill TP :Summary: Into the depths, looking for answers... Dust trails behind the small Autobot convoy that heads through Helex. The ruined city still houses its share of Decepticons, it also houses one of the worst spots on Cybertron. Teletraan II's notes on Silent Grill state that the underground colony's location has shifted several times over the time of its discovery. Several times in its past, the strange cultist inhabitants of the city would make life difficult for Helex, and while the Decepticons would always recover, even sending teams down to eliminate the entire threat, Silent Grill would find a way to survive. All other reports given on the area and its cultists are sketchy. On one occasion, the Decepticons had noticed a raiding force from the city who merely hijacked a series of satellite dishes to deliver a message. Another time, they were seen outside Retoris. Waiting for something. When nothing happened, they seemed pleased and left. The hole in the ground was also the last known location of Cometchaser, Imager's CO. As the Autobots and Junkions pull/fly up to the festering hole that 'in theory' leads to Silent Grill, they cannot escape the feeling of being watched. "We got a great big Convoyyyyyyyyyyy, and ain't she a beautiful siiiiiiiiiiight, Con-voyyyyyyyyyyyy..." The song blares out of Sit-Com's junk-cycle speakers as he picks up the rear, broadcasting loud enough for even the head of the pack to hear him. At least it's not his own possibly out-of-tune singing. He vrooms a little bit in neutral for emphasis at the end of the tune. He flickers a headlight high beam at the ones in front. "I tawt I taw a putty tat!" You know your music is too loud when it's capable of drowning out the rumble of an old engine like Ironhide's. But you work long enough with Jazz and Blaster and you learn to at least block it out. Most of it, at least. Just don't ask the old kodger to translate Blaster-speak. Brakes creak as the rugged red van pulls to a stop at the edge of the hole and transforms. "Only thin' worse than a ghost story is a ghost story ya can't just dismiss cuz there's act'al weirdness to back it up.... But with those convoys also disappearin' round here, ain't got no choice now but t'look into it." And maybe kill two cyber-buzzards with one sprocket. Imager parks at the edge of the hole. It's a tunnel, but one that has a buildup of junk and detritus outside from all angles. This suggests that the hole was dug OUT from Silent Grill. Within the tunnel, light is scarce, as it seems to get a bit extra shady arly. The big Femme transforms, then takes a knee, frowning. "I really don't like this. Have I mentioned that?" It was all her 'stoopid quest' anyway, to save a fading planet she had to confront her own issues. What a shoddy script to work with... <> Imager says, "Yeah...I guess. I guess I'd rather think there was a connection than there isn't. Makes it feel like we're doing it for a cause, you know?" <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Whal, at least mebbe we can solve -that- mystery, even if sortin' out the past turns out to be a bust." After the initial regarding of the tunnel comes through, and the party makes their way inside, the tunnel darkens about as quickly as noted. It never gets pitch black, it just seems to get oppressive. As lights come on, the shadows dance and play on the walls, all pipes and turns. After half an hour of going downward, exploring the deep dark, a greenish gas, reminiscent of a mist hangs low in the tunnels. Ironhide's chemical know-how notes that its harmless and scentless. Neither flammable, poisonous, nor corrupting. Possibly a burst pipe that consistently pumps out the foul colored mixture. <> Imager says, "yeah...that I can get behind" <> Imager says, "so uh...Junkion. I'm just going to ask this now. What sort of Teevee show is THIS like? because I don't want to watch it." Sit-Com halts and goes to the edge of the hole, his headlight peering down into the depths of the darkness. "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of mechs? The shadow knows." <> Sit-Com says, "Do not attempt to adjust your set. We control the horizontal. We control the vertical. This is...The Outer Limits." <> Imager says, "Uh...okay then." Ironhide is quiet for the first several steps, mainly because he's shifting through filters on his various sensory systems to deal with the lack of lighting and other problems with the tunnel. "The vapor's harmless... but Ah'd avoid lightin' any matchs in the tunnel, just t'be safe." "Only you can prevent forest fires. Only you," Sit-Com quips. Ironhide has to remind himself it's a Junkion and not point out this isn't a forest. Imager's holographic imaging comes in handy for once. A projection of light emenates from her chestplate, forming a small globe of light. Almost instantly, motion is detected. Ironhide picks up the movement first, tracking it. Three figures disappear into the darkness, the surrounding mess of broken metal, pipes, sealed hatches and Cybertron only knows what else. Upon securing the area, or looking for the figures, three gaunt Femmes appear, all with large eyes, sunken faceplates, and haunting slim forms. They seem nonhostile, but immediately disperse out of sight when spotted, whether by secret passages or otherways... "I did! I DID taw a putty tat!" the Junkion exclaims. The words seem to come from nowhere... "In the beginning, Cybertron had nothing. Their bodies ached, and their sparks held nothing but hatred." "They fought endlessly, but death never came. They despaired, stuck in the eternal quagmire." "A mech offered his forge to the sun, and prayed for salvation" "A femme offered a globe to the sun, and asked for joy" "Feeling pity for the sadness that had overrun the world, a god was born from those gifts." "God claimed time, and devoured half of it, turning it into day and night." "God outlined the road to oneness, and gave people joy. And God devoured the endless immortality of the people,t aking away their endless pain." "God created beings to lead people in obedience. The red god, Jujibara. The yellow god, Lobselbeeth Many sweeps and hunters... Ironhide lets out a growl under his proverbial breath. He can spot the forms easy enough via sensors, but every time he tries to look directly at them they disappear, like sneaking outside the edges of vision. Grunting he makes a double-check that his rifle is ready, just in case. He doesn't trust how long 'non-hostile' is going to last. "Keep it sharp, folks. They're just tryin' to spook us." "Village of the Damned?" Sit-Com wonders aloud. :"God set out to make all things one, but there his strength ran out. Betrayed by his own." :"We must offer our prayers, not forget our faith, and hope that in one day...the path to fruition will be opened" Sit-Com transforms and scratches his head. "Or...Children of the Corn?" The motorcycle splits apart and re-forms into the jovial form of Sit-Com. Let the laugh track begin! The path seems easy enough, with no major branches outwards. The figures in the dark always there, always close at hand. Just appearing in the light long enough to make a dramatic vanishing act. Of course, Ironhide's no fool, keeping their positions current as he passes along. Imager tromps on behind the others, "Yeeeeeah. They're sure tryin. Succeeding too. That there sounds like some ripe ole Unicron rhetoric I think." "Don't go in there with Eyes Wide Shut," Sit-Com advises. Ironhide wrinkles what limited amount of nasal strut he has, mimicing an expression he'd picked up from Spike and Sparkplug without really thinking about it. "More like some ripe ol' Unicron bullslag," mutters the old timer under his breath. "But keep on yer toe struts all the same. Even the most absurd of tales tend t'have some basis of truth." Pause. "Unless it's Kup. He's just full o' hot exhaust." Jovial jab at his fellow geezer, but it doesn't really do much to lighten the creepy mood. Imager trails on behind, a weak smile on her faceplate for a moment. "Ehhh Bossmech. He's not so bad. He's just the other sort of old mech. And its the fact that you and he are always grumpin at each other...well that's what makes it so funny for the rest of us." Silent Grill is a funny place. It knows why you're coming to it, so one should never be too surprised to see the object of their search close at hand. As the trio wade through the sickly green gas, obscuring vision as it gets thicker, a Femme appears in the darkness. Unlike the others, this one's colors are bright. Orange and red, a sleek polished scheme that her Autobrand gleams against. A somber expression crosses her face as she watches everyone for a moment before disappearing to the left. Sit-Com glances over at the strangers and says quietly, "Fidelio." Was that?... No, wait. Ironhide reaches over to grab Imager's shoulder. "Somethin' ain't right here. Ah ain't pickin' up no proper mass or energy readin's fer that to have been... y'know." His optics flicker a few times, again checking the various sensor filters. "The vapor ain't harmful, but that don't mean it ain't gonna cause visual issues. Mirages are 'harmless' and that don't make 'em any more there, either." The illusion kind, not the snobby spy kind. <> Imager says, "huh?" "And definitely, don't drink the Kool-Aid," Sit-Com murmurs. <> Imager says, "Kool-Aid, what?" <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Junkion, lass." <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Don't intake anythin' y' don't know what it is." <> Imager says, "Yeah... I mean obviously. I'm going to have a triple decontamination shower after this regardless." <> Sit-Com says, "Paging Reverend Jim Jones." <> Imager says, "I really don't know Earth culture" <> Security Chief Ironhide snorts in semi-amusement. "Ah've been dealin' with Jazz and Blastah too much" A sudden flash of pink emerges from a side tunnel. Another ghost??? No, it appears to be Arcee. "...Hello, sorry I was late, decided to pick up a few supplies...wow, kind of creepy down here." The direction the Femme disappeared leads to a large opening in the wall. While it continues onward, there can be no doubt that you are there. The area just...opens up. An entire bizarre cityscape lies beneath you, one that tugs at the back of your processors as it reminds you of something. Large green pools hiss and spew gas at random. Figures move in the city below, and since the gas doesn't bar your view from up here, a quick bit of recon shows several Cybertronians, held prisoner, bound by energy rings and inhibitor clamps. A series of stairs leads up to some sort of temple or shrine of some sort, where a figure can be seen silhouetted from the fiery green fire that rolls up behind it. Something is in motion down there. To the immediate side, Cometchaser regards the party, floating. Her wide shouldered frame unmistakable now as she hovers off to the side. <> Imager says, "Gaah!" <> Imager says, "Arcee...j...p.....what in blazes is wrong with you?" <> Sit-Com says, "This is like brink-a-doom." <> Arcee says, "Oops! Hey, how was I supposed to know /this/ was what was down here??" Imager has her back turned to the situation, her shotgun comes up as Arcee just surprises the group. Imager rolls her optics, "You see anything funny on the way? I mean. Ironhide here says this mist is harmless but there's all sorts creepin in the shadows out here." She looks around uneasily behind Arcee, "Half tempted to doubt it's really you too." Considering that thought, she steps forward, then with a single digit pokes Arcee on the shoulder. "Yeah. you're solid. Good. So uh...yeah. Creepy" Sit-Com plays the theme from the Twilight: Breaking Dawn. Imager has no idea what that is, good on her. Ironhide doesn't jump at Arcee, because she immeadiately pings off his sensors as something real. He just huffs a bit. "Com'n. Let's see where this goes." And being the stubborn old mech he is, promptly takes the lead. Just because part of the mission was to sort out things for Imager doesn't mean he's gonna let the gal wander into something. That and since his sensors can sort most things out. Unfortunately the sight they find down below is possibly worse than the 'ghost'. "Ah think we found where the missin' folks been goin'... But why would -these- recluses be haulin' em off." And then he reachs over to whap Sit-Com lightly upside the helm. "Turn that down, before someone hears it." Sit-Com puts his hands up. "What? I wanted to out-creep the creepypasta." : Ironhide says, ".. hahaha" : Imager says, "the situation will remain as is. It is your decision if you wish to engage peacefully or with a call of arms." Sit-Com starts playing the Theme to the Twilight Zone, instead. "Sorry if I startled you," Arcee apologizes to Imager with a 'guilty-as-charged' smile. But that smile fades as she follows the posse along and sees...chained captives. "You all said you were seeing visions," she murmurs in a low tone, looking concerned as she gazes upon the captives. "Are we all seeing the same thing right now? Are those prisoners real? They look pretty real to me..." It's a good thing Ironhide isn't the only one here, because he would probably just stomp on down there himself if it was up to him and he didn't have others to worry about. As it is he leans a bit farther over the edge, keeping what of his blocky frame down and out of immediate view. "They're real awright... the mists ain't reachin' us up here, either." He looks to Arcee. "Might have t'put Imager's li'l quest on hold to deal with this, b'fore the chance is gone.... Where's one of our blasted spies when we could use em." Ironhide can vouch that everything seems to be pinging properly off of his radar, except of course for the partially transparent form of Cometchaser who flies up and away moments before Imager steps forward to examine the situation as well. Any voices from down into the depths are lost to the distance though. :"Kinda a trick question I think. We can't know it is or it isn't real. Buuuut if they got bots er even cons down there I don't think they'll have a good time of it" Sit-Com calls out, "I'm Mr. Tumnus. Welcome to Narnia." Arcee nods to Ironhide. "There must be a way down there..." She glances over at Sit-Com. "You wouldn't happen to have any climbing gear on you...?" <> Imager says, "So we're going in?" Sit-Com reaches into his subspace pocket and pulls out a grappling hook and line. <> Sit-Com says, "Sword, to grapple and line!" <> Imager says, "Okay that's handy..." <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "We can't just leave 'em. I don't wanna know what these... outcasts would do with em." <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Lead 'em to a passage back to that surface tunnel. Ah'll deal with any interference we get... cuz trust me, we're pro'ly gonna get it." Using Sit-Com's rope and grapple, the team makes their way down and forward, though Imager was exceedingly skeptical of it holding her weight. Still, it manages to happen. Loud raucous noises, the beats of cheers and chants thrum louder as the group enters the forsaken city. On the outskirts as they are, the place simply has a dark, ill feeling to it. Subterfuge, covert tactics seem to be the order of the day as the Autobots consider their battle plans. Cometchaser moves, eerily silent, hovering over the group. Imager spots her moments later. <> The ghostly femme speaks. "Enough with lies...tell me one more time. My blood, your line, is this you inside?" The dark figure, a tall, slender Femme raises her head, hearing the words, her head covered by something akin to a rattan helmet... Dal Matia has arrived. The dread Femme responds, though her words are soft, they cut through the city's noise like it were silence. "Death to the living, the flame has no living heart." "in the order of life...I know you're there." She turns towards the Autobots, her green staff held in two of her four hands. "As you saw it, your plan...a real shot in the dark. It came a little too late..." She swirls her staff around, leaving a green afterimage before she thrusts it overhead. Green fire explodes from behind her as the cultists rally. :"IT'S OVER!!!!" Unicron cultists howl forward, scrambling with a mad gleam in their eye. They scream their signature chant. "DEAAATTTH!!!" as they lunge for the Autobots with a reckless fevor that can only signify zealotry! "It's the Lady of the Green Kyrtle!" Sit-Com exclaims, "Quick, get Prince Rilian out of the silver chair! Someone burn a marsh wiggle's foot, it has antimagic properties!" As the cultists stream forth, Sit-Com tries to force them back with a blast of Led Zeppelin from his sonic rifle. <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Oh good, Ah ain't all that great at bein' sneaky anyhoo" >> Sit-Com fails his generic combat roll against Dal Matia. << Arcee knew there would be some sort of resistance once they made their descent, but she wasn't expecting an entire /cult/. As cultists grab for her, she sweeps her leg around and kicks at them, using the momentum to swing around and punch at them. "You don't get to run a kidnapping operation down here!" >> Arcee fails her generic combat roll against Dal Matia. << It's a Junkion grappling line. It's not going to break unless it's part of the plot to break, right? Isn't that how their weird logic works? Either way, it seems to support Ironhide's ancient bulk just fine, Imager shouldn't have too much trouble. At least with the line. She's finally seen the ghost, it seems. <> Ironhide's tone is entirely serious. But that's pretty much the end of any chance to get sneaky. Which is okay, Ironhide isn't really the sneaky sort. Fingertips of one hand retract into nozzzles and Ironhide fires a blast of nitrogen at the ground beneath the rushing horde to break up the charge. "Ah reckon these punks need to chill out!" Hey he's old, don't expect the puns to be fresh either. >> Ironhide succeeds with his generic combat roll on Dal Matia. << Dal Matia waves her staff over her head, forming an eerie green circle, "Calling...the children. Conception...and dying! Silent...but SCREAMING!" Thirty more cultists just seem to appear out of the ruins, the rubble, all moving forward with their bare fists, energon-thirsty! Dal Matia slams her staff to the ground, as Sit-Com's Stairway to Heaven gets soaked up by two dogpiling cultists, which knocks them back. She reappears atop a ruined wall, jamming her staff towards Ironhide. "Damage done to metal, what they said in the name of the..." She turns the staff on Arcee, "Damage done to the spark, is the start of the end." A flash of light envelops her as she teleports again, moving to atop a sagging building. Her staff continues towards Imager, "Damage done to the soul, I know, it goes with the" And lastly, Sit-Com is her target, "Damage done to a life, cursing loud at the chaos!" >> Dal Matia succeeds with its generic combat roll on Arcee. << >> Dal Matia fails its generic combat roll against Sit-Com. << >> Dal Matia fails its generic combat roll against Imager. << >> Dal Matia fails its generic combat roll against Ironhide. << One cultist gets frozen instantly as Ironhide lays on a mouthful of liquid nitrogen, but it just doesn't seem to stop them. The frozen one is bowled over almost instantly as three more attempt to play the numbers game, their hands open to grasp and grapple the old mech. Arcee manages to ward a few off with her kicks, but it only holds them at bay for a few moments. Imager looks back at Ironhide, "But...is she...is...?" The question dies on her lips as she looks back to Cometchaser, a pained look on her face. The ghostly femme walks serenely through the chaos. "You're here...you're gone. It's not fair." She pauses, not even noticing the one cultist drawing an enerknife, charging past towards Sit-Com. "I'm lost." "Your god, your fear, was it worth the price?" As Arcee pushes one from off of her, one that had leapt from the second story to tackle her, Cometchaser is there, staring right at her. "Pray for the soldiers we lost along the way. Still remember their names, and faces." She steps through Arcee as if she had not ever seen the Femme. "Cold and abandoned, they cry. Their faith put in your hands. When it's over, they come to haunt you." Arcee wavers a bit as Dal Matia levels her staff in her direction. Outwardly, it doesn't appear to have much of an effect on her, but who knows for sure what it's doing to her inwardly. Her typically brave resolve seems to wane, especially when the ghostly form of Cometchaser addresses her. "You...aren't real," she insists, pushing heavily against one of the cultists who manages to get her into a strong grapple. "...But...this is real..." She draws her energy sword from subspace, and fights to win back control of the battle and her own emotions. But she feels cold within, very cold. >> Arcee succeeds with her generic combat roll on Dal Matia. << "Times like this Ah almost wish Ah actually had a shotgun." Not the least bit surprised that they just trampled over who got frozen. Zealots are like that. Sod first the crazy cult of kooks. Ironhide grabs a piece of fallen building and hefts it up. "... Ah think some of this is older than Ah am..." he muses to no one in particular, before HEAVING it into the crowd. Then turns to shake a fist in Matia's direction. "Quit yer spewin' lady, b'fore Ah get up there and quit it fer ya, with my fist!" >> Ironhide fails his generic combat roll against Dal Matia. << Dal Matia perches atop the ruined wall, two of her arms crossed impassively. An amused look crosses her face, even as Ironhide's heft flattens two of her minions. She winks out of existance...to right behind the old mech! Her staff crackling, a thick green beam catches the big mech, holding him and slamming him into the same crushed piece of debris he threw. "Wasted...confusion...." >> Dal Matia succeeds with its generic combat roll on Ironhide. << :The green energy seems to flare, sending a stronger beam up against the old mech. Dal Matia steps forward closer, that infectious darkness assaulting the mech. "Deadly...Illusion" >> Dal Matia succeeds with its generic combat roll on Ironhide. << :"Nightmare...INTRUSION!" And with that, she swings her staff again, slamming Ironhide back into the ground, a crater left in his wake. Even as the mech emerges, that contamination of sickly green energy ripples over his armor, the besmirking witchdoctor raises a hand to her mouthplate in smug confidence. One of her other hands tilts her hat just so... >> Dal Matia succeeds with its generic combat roll on Ironhide. << Two of the cultists take wounds to the midsection from Arcee's energy blade. The crackling power of it sends them down, most likely nonfatal wounds, but from a skilled wielder, more than enough to put them into stasis quickly. Cometchaser simply continues her blissfully unaware walk through the fight, Imager trailing behind her and occasionally facepunching a cultist that gets too close. Cometchaser calls out, as if in pain. "Sacrifice, Wasted lives. Destiny...redefined...Someone chooses you." "The lucky ones, no lives, no family knows you're here." And with that, the city actually roils. The very city itself shifts and moans in motion, reconfiguring itself just barely, as if it were a great living thing. An enormous hand stirs, raising up in the distance, the hand of some great towering Titan...and that's why the area seemed so familiar. The city must be alive, truely alive, as in a Metroplex-level Titan, no doubt infected, corrupted by whatever horrors control this realm.... Arcee is thinking a lot. She's thinking about the cold feeling in her spark, despite trying her best to not focus on it. She's thinking about making a run for the prisoners to free them. But doing so would definitely cause a disadvantage to the rest of the team. They were greatly outnumbered. For the time being, she remains in the immediate area, and she goes after Dal Matia herself when she sees her using that damned staff on Ironhide. "Watch out for the business end of that thing," she calls out. Then, the ground quakes, and Arcee pauses in surprise. What in Primus are they going to do to free a trapped /Titan/??? This situation just became infinitely more complicated. Shaking off some more chills, Arcee goes after the cult leader with her sword, trying to draw her off of Ironhide so he can recover. >> Arcee succeeds with her generic combat roll on Dal Matia. << <> Arcee says, "Wh...how...okay, she has a Titan down here. She's probably corrupted it, too." <> Spike says, "Everyting OK up there?" <> Sit-Com says, "Clash of the Titans?" <> Arcee says, "I...no, Spike, not really. I'll try to explain this a little later. We've uncovered a cult." <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Clear a route fer the prisoners." Proximity alarms roar in his head, but for all his gumption Ironhide's old frame just isn't fast enough to respond to the quick teleportation, and moreso turns right into the attack rather than avoid it. And being a bitch Dal Matia just blasts him while he's down, sending horrendous whatever the slag that is spasming through his chassis. Until it comes down to explosions! And craters! And smoking filth from that hideous toxicity and... A deafening crunch of charred metal as one foot stomps down on it, followed by the rest of ancient machinery tromping out of the crater. Putrid fumes rolling off armor that, despite it's legendary toughness, has been warped by the assault. Little disruptive sparks crackle now and then across the damage. But Ironhide still stands. He's just too goddamn stubborn to let -this- sicko put him down, as much as that holy fragton hurt. All the same, he clamps one fist in his palm and cracks the servos. "Don't say Ah didn't warn ya...." The old warhouse just up and rushes towards the crazed femme like some half-blasted juggernaught. >> Ironhide fails his generic combat roll against Dal Matia. << Dal Matia's dread song continues, she shifts her staff to aim again at the Autobots. One at a time, she lances her foul energy forward with precise motions. Arcee takes her unawares, a glancing strike with her blade, flickering with some strange befouled Energon. The dark mistress doesn't seem to mind. She chants as she assaults the four. "One more spark to the call, for all in silence, comes two more sparks to the call, for all and in time. THREE more sparks to the call, they walk unknowing, and FOUR more sparks to the call, won't be all, and you know it.." On the last word, as it hangs in the air, right as Ironhide hauls off to do his patented three step haymaker, she teleports back to the top of the stairs, to whatever ritual altar constructed.... The cultists fall silent, motionless. As if on cue, they all collapse together, their bodies simply losing the will to respond. Bodies crash to the ground in near silence. Step. Step. Step. Dal Matia slowly starts to descend the stairs, a hand to her wide-browed hat, held low over her face, her staff held in two hands, crooked away and aside. :"So....wyaaattt iss it that thee Outo-bohts come to Dahl-Mateea for Hmmm? Iss theese what you seek? Yes?" She gestures off to the side towards the generic Autobots and Decepticons captured. "What uaafffer do you geeve in trade hmm? Bahlance must be kept." With a sinister smile and chuckle, she approaches the bottom of the stairs, apparently no longer interested in combat. <> Dust Devil says, "Uh oh...someone's in trouble" "We sure as shooting don't seek 101 Dal Matians," Sit-Com says. <> Spike says, "Cult as in 'Cult of Galvatron' cult - or worse?" Dal Matia in a most amused tone, gestures towards the prisoners with her free hand, then back to Sit-Com, responds, "Throoa mee the idol, and I well throa you the weep" <> Arcee says, "Definitely worse." And a poor wall is left to suffer Ironhide's heavy fist instead. The wall now has a big hole in it. Unfortunately that's not nearly as satisfying as what he had intended, but it's kind of how it goes. And she's still annoying. "Iffen ya wanted to trade ya shoulda said that first." Uh, someone who's idea of negotiating is -not- punching it until it stops being a problem might want to handle this now. Arcee stares as Dal Matia's...followers? Puppets? Accursed objects, whatever they were, fall limply as the cult leader teleports and then descends the staircase. "I don't think you're in a position to...to demand things from us," Arcee says. "What you're doing down here, this isn't right. None of this belongs to you." <> Sit-Com says, "Give me Hare Krishnas any day." "En Silent Grillee, All theengs are all theengs." She chuckles at her words, as if some sort of joke were uttered. Her body twists a bit eerily as she shifts her gaze to Arcee, that piercing, knowing look she can manage. "We weel diskuss terms. Yees?" Lightly, she steps towards the prisoners, towards a Decepticon. "Ooor do you weesh him deahd?" Her head tilts as she raises her staff to the gumby Decepticon. The Con raises his head wearily, only now noticing the situation, "Huh...Wh....oh no, no no no. Bots, you gotta help me! Don't leave me here with them! They do things, mech! Get me out, I'll...I'll defect! I'll renounce, just...don't leave us here!" Dal Matia slides her staff down her arms, much like a stage magician, until it taps the ground. "You weell peck. Shall we have a Wurd...or a dreenk?" Cometchaser silently watches on from her hovering position. It appears this situation has actually garnered the ghost's interest. <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Talkin's safer than drinkin'. Relatively speakin'. Just don't let her fill yer head with that nonsense of thars" <> Spike says, "Lovely... another cult" "Alright, fine. You want a word? Let's have a word." Arcee's not completely confident about this, but she doesn't know if they can turn back now with prisoners' lives in the balance. They have to try something. Dal Matia leads Arcee over to a spot away from the others. She looks back at Ironhide, that sly look in her eyes never fading. She makes a big motion of folding all four of her arms behind her back, as if to imply that she had no weapons available, that there was to be no subterfuge. The voodoo matron leans in close to Arcee, to whisper something into her audio receptor. >> Dal Matia strikes Arcee with Nightmares And Tragedy . << >> Arcee temporarily loses motor functions from the attack! << She said SOMETHING. What it was, nobody could know, but the sheer words, the revelation of it was impossible to behold. As Arcee shuts down temporarily, perhaps stunned by whatever truth, whatever lies were told to her, Dal Matia looks on to the others, and then, in a flash of green, teleports away, leaving the prisoners as they were. Arcee clatters to the ground stiffly, her features frozen in terror. Sit-Com runs over to Arcee, his medic instincts taking over. Cometchaser lights upon the ground moments later, her eyes fixated on the prisoners...which you may recall was her focal point back in life. As the energy rings disappear from them in a flicker of light, so does she start to discorporate as well. And somewhere behind everyone else, Imager somberly watches her CO die, her head turning away, with washer fluid tears on her faceplate... <> Security Chief Ironhide says, "Never know with the weird stuff goin' on down here. Help me round up these folks and lead 'em outta here." <> Imager says, "Yeah..." Category:2015 Category:Logs Category:Spotlight Imager TP Category:Silent Grill TP